The Pencil.

Poem 512. Who I am in a way.

I dig the pencil
Into my skin
Only the tip
And never the lead.

I draw a heart
And it's puffy and red
Like a reflection
Of my own.

I am emo
It says
Even without some kind of cut
It is still pain and self-harming.

Sometimes I think it's not true
But everything about me screams it
My nails and my facial expressions
And the scars that are no longer fresh.

I dig the pencil
Into my skin
Never the lead
Only the tip.

Author's Note

Tell me what you think, my poetry is going to be skipping numbers. I have 600 poems.

Reviews

[Dr. Wood ?]

well that's about 400 more than I have....and I am getting on a bit now....If your poems are as good as this I'm sure many would like to read them

[WriteWriter]

Thank you.